9: The Inquisition
On the other side of the rubble, the humans were talking amongst themselves. Phantasia wanted to see who they were, and to ask them about what they had just done, but just as she was about to climb over to the other side she was stopped by a single word:
Bishop.
“I’m sure he will be most pleased,” said a light male voice, “Whatever devilish spirit was hiding in this place certainly won’t be coming back,”
“Are you really so sure?” asked a female, “I still don’t feel easy. I feel like something else is here. Something altogether different to the usual poltergeists and devil-spawn we deal with,”
Phantasia started to glide back towards the wall as the voices began to move. There was no chance those humans would be fast enough to catch her, but she could sense something about the woman. She could see things better than an average human could.
“He didn’t say ’bout another force,” said a third, gruff voice, “You sure you not seeing things?”
“What would a blind oaf like you know?” snapped the woman, “There are plenty of things out there that aren’t ghosts, you realise. Mischievous things. Malicious things. Things that denied the light of God.”
The woman’s psychic gaze was like a sweeping light, scanning ever closer to Phantasia’s position. It wouldn’t be long before it found her, but her own curiosity kept her from escaping. Who were these people, and how had they managed to expel the demon? If only she could ask them!
“Whatever it is, it has nothing to do with us,” said the first man, “We were sent here to deal with the devil-spirit. Our orders don’t include involving ourselves in the politics of unenlightened beings. Now let’s be going, if we dally any longer our reputation will be soiled,”
The woman’s gaze drifted away and Phantasia relaxed. The humans were leaving.
Then it hit her.
Cool malice. For a brief moment, she was looking eye-to-eye with the mysterious woman, but then the psychic spotlight relented and the humans were gone.
***
Phantasia found the gallery in much the same way she had left it. The Hawks were still congregating on the steps under the watchful eyes of their superior, who recognised Phantasia’s return with a frown. He didn’t want her there. She could feel his will creating a barrier, like a glistening wall that expanded around his immediate position (but, Phantasia was keen to notice, not bothering to protect his followers). His followers shared his unwelcoming aura, creating a maze of invisible and ineffective psychic shells. Had they any real bonds between them, they could have combined that strength and kept themselves safe from preying entities, or even prevented Phantasia from approaching them without feeling nauseous. But without that combined power, they were defenceless, just like the Ravens dancing in the underground nightclub with no real concern for anyone but themselves.
Shelley was looking distressed, separated from her so-called friends with her face buried behind her arms and legs as she sat curled up, rocking back and forth. Phantasia skipped up the steps towards her, which earned her a few whispered insults from some of the serious youths.
